Haymitch Week
by Ellana-san
Summary: Collection of one shots for Haymitch Week
1. Chapter 1

_It is Haymitch Week and I am sooooo excited!_

* * *

 ** _Day 1: Youth_**

* * *

 ** _Family_**

Haymitch pushed the pane of the kitchen's window impossibly slow, wary of its creaking. Going out was never an issue, it was sneaking back in that was always a little problematic. He needed to get a boost to climb in without knocking pots left on the small counter or tripping and waking up the whole house. It was made trickier by the fact his mother slept in a corner, her 'room' separated from the main kitchen/living-room only by a thin curtain.

When Iris Abernathy slept though, she slept deep, and it wasn't the first time he had sneaked out in the middle of the night.

He managed to slip inside and slowly closed the window, put the latch back and allowed himself a sigh of relief.

Right up until he heard the crack of a match and the soft glow of a candle lighted the room, revealing his mother standing there with a scowl.

Really, he should have known better than thinking he could get away with it. He got busted one time out of three.

"Mama." he winced. "I was just…" A hundred excuses spun in his head and he rejected each and every one of them for a sheepish wince. "Well… Busted?"

His mother narrowed her grey eyes, taking in his disheveled appearance – that he couldn't quite blame on the nonexistent wind – his untucked shirt and guilty stance. He shuffled awkwardly on his feet, rubbing the spot on his neck where he was sure Mabel had left a giant hickey. It amused her to get him in trouble with his mother. It amused him too right until it actually happened. He had enjoyed the sucking on his neck though, so he supposed he couldn't quite complain now.

"Sneaking out with the Larson girl in the middle of the night." Iris clicked her tongue in that way that meant she was more disappointed than angry – and, incidentally, that always made him wriggle in shame even at fifteen. " _Again_. Honestly, Haymitch…"

"We just went to the meadow, we didn't kill anyone." he grumbled.

"Don't you dare talk back to me, boy." his mother warned. "Do you know what they do to people they catch outside after curfew? Do you really want me to watch you getting whipped at the post again?"

He suppressed the flare of annoyance. If he had gotten whipped the last time, it was because he had been caught poaching and if he had been caught poaching it had been to feed his family. He refused to feel guilty or sorry about that. He was proud of it even, proud of the thin fading scars on his back. He had gotten off _easy_ anyway. The Head Peacekeeper liked him and he had only given him five lashes – not as violent as he had seen other people get whipped either. He had been _lucky_.

"We're being careful." he argued. "Everyone does it, Mama. It's fine."

"No, it's _not_." she retorted. "I won't have you risking punishment just so you can sneak to the meadow and… And do _what_ , by the way, Haymitch? What is so important that you can't do it tomorrow, by daylight, in front of everyone else?" She stared at him from head to toes and didn't seem very impressed by what she saw. "I hope you are not doing anything foolish, Haymitch. Because if you and that girl are… _experimenting_ …"

"Mama!" he squealed in embarrassment – yes, he _squealed,_ because there was one thing he didn't want to talk about with his mother and that was _sex_.

"Experimenting is fine. It is normal." Iris continued. "But don't you do anything that will result in a _pregnancy_ experiment. I am way too young to be a grandmother."

The tips of his ears were burning. "Mama…"

"There will be time once you are married." she continued. "If you love the girl, you can wait. If you love her, you won't have people talking behind her back and calling her nasty names just because she gave you what you wanted. You'll respect this girl, Haymitch."

"I already do!" he snapped, annoyed and embarrassed all rolled into one. "Come on, you see Mabel doing anything she doesn't want to? And we're not… We're not…" He stammered to a stop. "We're not doing any of _that_. We're just… We're…" His face contorted into a painful expression of embarrassment and he wondered if that was his mother's idea of a suitable punishment: making him talk about this sort of things. "We're just… Kissing and stuff."

Iris didn't look particularly happy with that answer. "And can't you _kiss and stuff_ when you are allowed to be out there instead of doing it in the middle of the night? You have school tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes. School was a joke. They never learned anything worthwhile and Haymitch was at the top of his class without having to lift a finger anyway. He loved learning but he knew that was never going to happen through school. High school in Twelve was just designed to make sure you were a nice little ant ready to go join the anthill that was the mine. They barely taught people to read, write and count. If his mother only knew how many times he and his friends had played hooky and had gone to the woods instead…

"Sorry, Mama." he drawled out dutifully but without any sincerity.

Time spent with Mabel was always worth it. He knew he was head over heels for that girl but he couldn't even bother to care. She was feral like wildfire, difficult and stubborn…. They butted heads a lot but he loved it. He loved her. He would marry her one day and they would have kids who would be just as stubborn as their parents and it would make up for the lack of money – there was no question they would have kids eventually, it wasn't really an option in Twelve since there was no way to prevent pregnancies that didn't involve a trip to the old woman who had a collection of knitting needles.

"You make me worry about you when you pull this sort of stunts." she insisted. "I can't lose you, Haymitch. Don't be reckless for the sake of it." He opened his mouth but she wasn't done. "And what if Hayden had followed you? You know he would jump off a cliff if you did the same. That boy idolizes you. What sort of example are you setting for him? If _he_ starts sneaking out in the middle of the night, it could be dangerous. _He_ could be punished."

"You sure are a master at guilt-tripping." he mumbled. "I'm sorry, Mama."

"It comes with motherhood." she snorted. "And you _can_ be sorry because you will have the double of chores for the next month."

"Yeah, okay." he sighed. It wasn't like it would make a lot of difference anyway.

"Go to bed now." she said. "And don't wake up your brother." He did as she asked, not surprised when she grabbed his arm when he passed by and pressed a kiss to his head. She had to go on tip-toe to do that now, he was taller than she was. "I love you, you silly boy."

"Love you too, Mama." he offered with a small smile. "Night."

He had barely closed the door to the small room he shared with his brother that Hayden sat up in his bed. He could see the ten years old's delighted face in the moonlight spilling from the window.

"You got busted." Hayden grinned.

"Thank you for the sympathy, baby brother." he mocked.

"Told you you should take me with you." the kid triumphed. "I could have kept watch for you."

"Yeah, and then we would _both_ have been busted and Mama would have had _my ass_ for taking you out in the middle of the night." he pointed out.

"You take me out all the time to watch the stars." Hayden argued.

"And we're _not_ telling Mama about that." Haymitch retorted, toeing off his shoes and climbing in bed without bothering to get in pajamas. "Go back to sleep."

"What did you do with Mabel?" Hayden asked, completely ignoring him.

"None of your business." he grumbled.

Hayden started making kissing faces, half-laughing while he did, and Haymitch turned his back on him, pulling the cover all the way to his ear.

He loved them but sometimes his family was _too much_.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Day 3: Family, Friends and Enemy_**

 _I chose to center this one around Chaff even though a few other friends and ties of Haymitch appear in there. I just love Chaff a lot and I have a lot of headcanons around him and his friendship with Haymitch I can never place anywhere so… They're here. Because he's Haymitch's best bro. I hope you enjoy it!_

 ** _And Yet_**

* * *

 **1 – Second Quarter Quell**

* * *

Haymitch awoke to an irritating beeping sound.

He fought to open his eyes, automatically trying to shrug off the numbness that wouldn't let him panic properly. He _needed_ to panic. He needed the kick of adrenaline. _What was going on?_

 _Maysilee_ , he thought and then he remembered. Maysilee was gone. All that was left of her was the pin buried deep in his pocket.

Maysilee was gone but _Nya_ wasn't and the girl from One was after him.

The beeping picked up and he managed to pry his eyelids open this time only to be assaulted by a light that was blinding and not natural.

"Easy." a deep rough voice ordered.

It wasn't Nya's and it didn't make sense because they were the last two, weren't they? Had they forgotten someone? He blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings, trying to sit up…

The tinge of pain was enough to make him groan and something pressed on his shoulder, pinning him to the bed.

" _Easy_ , I said." the same voice – a _man's_ voice – repeated. "Go on like that, they're going to rush in and drug you again."

 _Drug you again_.

 _Drug you_.

And suddenly he remembered.

He remembered the seething pain, the mad dash up the cliff with his guts in his hands and _oh god_ the pain and the terror and… _His guts had been in his hands,_ literally _in his hands_ … And then… Then… The cliff. He had wanted the cliff. It was all he had been able to think about. Nya had followed. She had tossed her axe. He had collapsed. Then… Then was a blur.

 _Drug you_.

He focused on the guy standing next to his bed, still pinning him to the mattress, too big and too threatening when he was lying down, drugged out of his mind, _vulnerable_. One of his hands wrapped around the guy's wrist, the other felt around for his knife – _stupid,_ of course, there was no knife…

"It's okay." the man said, his face softening. "You're out. You won, buddy. You're out. Nobody's out for you right now."

There were scarred tissues under his fingers and he realized with a sickening jolt that no hand was holding his shoulder. The guy's forearm ended in a stump. The face was familiar and he would have recognized him faster if the drugs hadn't been clouding his mind.

"Chaff." he slurred. A shot in the dark, really. He wasn't sure it was his name. Forty-fifth Hunger Games, he thought. The hand had been bitten off and swallowed by an alligator mutt.

The young man's face broke into a grin. "Why, you're a fan. I'm flattered. Love your style, by the way. The force field thing? Smart."

 _Force field_ … He remembered kicking pebbles over the cliff edge… He remembered them bouncing back… He remembered thinking there was no way out but it could become a possible weapon…

And he had run for the cliff.

He didn't think he had even meant to do that. He hadn't been in any state to _think_. Running for the cliff had been the only move. The _smart_ move.

Haymitch blinked again, the drugs in his system made it difficult to stay focused. He looked down at himself and let go of the victor's arm to tear off the needles stuck to the crook of his elbow.

"Oh, you don't want to do that…" Chaff made a face. "They patched you up but that was ugly, buddy. It's gonna hurt."

"I'm not your buddy." he growled, gritting his teeth and sitting up. It hurt his pride to admit he would have probably fallen over if the guy hadn't supported him and arranged the pillows behind him. He batted the hand and the stump away not because he was afraid of the victor but because he didn't want his kindness. He didn't _deserve_ any sort of kindness. The things he had done in that place…

"You're a charming one, aren't you?" Chaff snorted, sitting down on a chair that had been left by the bed. Clearly, he had been there for some time if the book abandoned at the foot of the chair was any indication.

Haymitch gave the room a glance. It was white, _very_ white… Floor, ceiling, sheets, walls, furniture, equipments…

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Games' Clinic." Chaff answered in a calm, almost bored voice. "That's in the Training Center, deep under. You've been out for five days. The crowd's hungry for you." The man looked at him from head to toes and snorted, a little bitter. "They're gonna eat you up. Should have taken the axe in your face instead of the stomach, you're too handsome."

He didn't know what that meant but it made his stomach churn in unpleasant ways. He gingerly probed at his chest. The shot of pain was immediate but manageable. He figured it was thanks to the drugs in his system.

"It was touch and go for a while." the victor offered. "You gave the Gamemakers a scare. No victor to parade around would be bad for business."

"Why are _you_ here?" he snarled.

He wasn't sure what had happened to Eleven's tributes. He wasn't even sure what had happened to Tim and Pia, the other Twelve's kids. He and Maysilee had never crossed path with them.

"'Cause you've got no mentor." Chaff shrugged. "And I drew the short straw. Mags' been by. Seeder too. Woof. Beetee and Wiress… A few others. But, like I said. You've got no mentor."

"I had no mentor in the Games and I didn't do so bad." he spat. "Where's my escort?"

He _hated_ Amelia. He had hated her for _years_ just like he had hated the escort that had come before her but she would have been a familiar face. And she had come through in the end… She had managed to send him and Maysilee some sponsors' gifts. It must have been her since Twelve had no victors, she had all the power.

She had been dismissive of the four of them ever since the Reaping. She had been unhelpful, mean at times and hadn't bothered trying to coach them but… She was _familiar_.

"On a talk-show or another, already boosting her promotion." Chaff shrugged. "She's moving on to Five. You'll be better off without her, if you want my opinion."

"Didn't ask for it, did I?" he retorted, eyeing the victor, looking for a trap. "What do you want?"

"Told you." Eleven's mentor repeated, still calm. "You need someone to show you the ropes. An ally, if you want to think about it like that."

"I don't want any ally." he barked, his mind flashing to bright pink birds and blood soaking the dirt, blond hair turned crimson and blue glassy eyes that saw no more. He wanted to throw up. The beeping started in earnest again, it came from a machine on his right and he ripped the sensor away from his finger. It didn't help with the nausea. "I'm gonna be sick." he muttered.

"No, you're not." Chaff countered. "You're going to lie back down and you're going to breathe. 'Cause if you're sick, I'm pretty sure you're gonna tear those stitches away and then they'll have to operate again and… _Yeah_ , there's the small matter of you maybe dying this time…"

He _did_ lie back down and breathe because it seemed like the cleverest thing to do.

"Very helpful." he commented after a few minutes, once he was sure he wouldn't throw up. "You're a great mentor. I can see why you win every year."

"Watch the tone, kid." Chaff warned.

Haymitch chuckled even though he was far from being amused. "You're what? Five years older than me? Cut the crap." He sulked. "I don't need you to mentor me. I already won."

"You're cute to think it ends there." Eleven's victor sighed. "Fine, you don't want an ally, you don't want a mentor… How about a friend?"

 _Friends die_.

"I want to go home."

The words slipped past his lips without his consent, too whiny and too vulnerable. He felt himself blush and he turned his head away to hide the tears burning his eyes. He didn't know why he wanted to cry so badly. Maysilee? The pain? The exhaustion? The terror that had been gripping him for weeks now? The guilt of everything he had done to get to this bed? The knowledge he didn't _deserve_ to be in this bed? He longed to hug his brother, to breathe the familiar scent of his home, to kiss his girl until he couldn't think anymore, to bury his face in his mother's neck and to finally _let go_ …

"That's not going to happen right away." Chaff said, not without sympathy. He had been there, Haymitch figured, maybe in this very bed, staring at the stump that now ended his arm. "There's the Crowning, parties, interviews… The whole shebang."

"I don't care." he spat. "I _won_. I can do what I want. That's the deal, right? You win and you do what you want?"

The stump patted his shoulder in an awkward attempt at comfort. "You get some sleep now, buddy. I'll stay right here, alright? I'll be right here every time you need me."

"Why?" he frowned. "You don't know me."

"Told you." Chaff shrugged. "I like your style. Plus, we're friends now."

Eleven's victor announced it as if it was decided.

Haymitch was too tired to argue the point further.

* * *

 **2 – Second Quarter Quell's Victory Tour**

* * *

Haymitch sneaked away from the party and hid into the first empty room he found. He didn't bother turning the lights on, he angrily tore the tie away from his neck, not caring in the slightest that Amelia would have his head for it, and slid down the wall.

Eleven was the first stop of the tour and if every one of them was like that it would be _unbearable_.

Standing out there, making speeches, shaking hands, facing the giant pictures of four dead kids he had seen every day for two weeks during training, following the mayor around the District and pretending to look interested for the cameras, having to listen to his escort's rambling about etiquette and protocol and what not and resisting the urge to simply _snap her neck_ …

He pressed his shaking hands against his face and took a deep shuddering breath, willing the pain to _stop_. It didn't. It _never_ stopped. It was a burning hole in his chest that was threatening to swallow him whole, an endless echo of cherished voices in his ears murmuring _your fault, your fault, your fault_ …

The lights were turned on abruptly and he blinked, blinded. It immediately made him reach for the knife he kept at his belt at all times. He didn't _care_ what Amelia or his stylist had to say about it. He didn't care about ruining the suit's lines or how rude he looked coming armed at a dinner party. He hadn't parted from the knife since he had been let out of the Clinic. He slept with it, he ate with it, he showered with it… The knife might as well be a part of him now. Without it he felt dizzy, lost and vulnerable. He _needed_ it to protect himself.

"Don't stab a cripple." Chaff mocked. "Didn't your mother tell you it's bad form to attack disabled people?"

The mention of his mother was too much.

 _"_ _Shut up_." he growled, tightening his grip on the knife so much his knuckles turned white.

Chaff didn't flinch or look wary but his eyes remained on the blade for a few seconds.

"You're having a flashback?" Eleven's victor asked in a matter-of-fact sort of voice. "Seeing the pictures of the other tributes… It does that sometimes. Flashbacks. No shame in that. Not really a nice thing to go through but we've all been there."

"I'm not." he spat. "Leave me alone."

He didn't understand why Chaff was so bent on _helping_. At some point, after his release from the Clinic, Haymitch had relented and accepted his near constant presence at his side if only because the relief of seeing Amelia's familiar face had quickly faded into annoyance and hatred toward her. Chaff was always calm, always diffusing the tension with a joke, always drawing the attention back on him when it became too much for Haymitch… Chaff had remained true to his promise, he had stuck close, had taken Haymitch under his wing so to speak, had introduced him to other victors who had all been… _nice_ even though he had killed some of their tributes… Chaff had taken over what should have been Twelve's mentor role, arranging things for him, coordinating with Amelia…

"Look, I'm not going to say everything's going to be magically better." Chaff stated, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. They were in a sitting-room, Haymitch realized belatedly. "'Cause that ain't gonna happen. What you do in the arena, it stays with you forever. But it dulls after a while. You'll learn to deal with it. 'Cause that's what people like you and me _do_. Wanna hear a secret, buddy? There are no winners, only survivors."

"It's not _that_." he argued. Although it didn't help. He didn't think he had slept more than two or three hours at a time in six months. There were the nightmares and then there were _the ghosts_. That was how he called them anyway. He knew they weren't real. He knew they were most likely hallucinations conjured by his exhausted brain or by his guilt but there were _always_ there, lurking in the shadows of the huge empty house they had allotted him. He couldn't stand the dark anymore. He couldn't stand the fear they were about to pounce on him and tear him to shreds and he _knew_ he deserved it, _he knew,_ but he couldn't _accept_ to go down easily because Chaff had a point: he _was_ a survivor. "I want to go home. I just want to go home."

"You just left there." Chaff pointed out. "It will be a couple of months before you go back. We can find you a phone if you're homesick. _Fuck_ , you're a Quell victor, Haymitch. _Use_ that. You need to call home, you say, _I'm the Quarter Quell's victor I_ fucking _want a phone_."

He shook his head, burying both of his hands in his hair and _pulling_. It was too long, longer than he ever had it, but he had refused to let the prep team trim it. His mother always cut his hair. _His mother_ …

"I've got no home left." he whispered.

"What?" Eleven's victor frowned.

"There was an _accident_." He spat that word with bitterness and sarcasm because he didn't believe in the accident theory. _He didn't_. "There was a fire, it spread. Four houses burned to the ground. Six dead. Mama and Hayden… They were inside. The mayor told me after the train arrived home." He started laughing. It was hysterical. He had been hysterical since then, slowly cooking his madness inside his empty house in that Victors' Village that looked like a graveyard. "I thought it was odd there were no cameras at the station."

Chaff's face was blank. "They tried to sell you and you said no?"

He looked up at his friend, confused at first and then feeling _sick_. "Is that what they do to other people?"

"Sometimes." Eleven's victor shrugged. "If you're handsome enough. Thought I had bought you some time after the Crowning, you being deadly injured and all."

"They'll touch me over my dead body." he growled. "Is that what they did to you?"

"Nah." Chaff denied, waving his stump in the air. "Seeder stopped them from giving me a prosthesis. Capitols don't pay for cripples. Creeps most of them out." Eleven's mentor pursed his lips tight and dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry about your family, buddy. You've got a girl though, right? You've got to do what they say or…"

"She was caught poaching." he cut him off flatly. "Bullet in the head. The Mayor told me that too. You know you get whipped for poaching? You don't get _executed_." He rested the head against the wall and closed his eyes. "There was a white rose on each of their graves."

"That's Snow's signature." Chaff offered.

"Yeah, I figured." he said. "I've been thinking… All this time… I've been thinking about _why_ … And I think I know. I was clever. I used the arena against Nya. I've showed them off. God forbids a District dog to be clever, right? All the more so someone from _Twelve_ …"

"Probably." Eleven's victor agreed. "I know it doesn't mean much but I'm sorry, buddy."

"You've got a family?" he asked.

"Yeah." Chaff nodded. "A sister. Three nephews. Lost my mom and dad a couple of years ago though. Legit accident, not…"

"When does it stop?" he cut him off, almost begging. "The pain? When does it stop? 'Cause I can't _breathe_."

He hadn't been expecting an answer and he wasn't surprised not to get one. Chaff studied him for a moment and then he shrugged. "I don't know but I know what can help. Greensbe is useless as far as mayors go but he's got fine booze." Eleven's victor stood up and rummaged around the room for a while before eventually coming back to hand Haymitch a glass, the bottle wedged beneath his armpit. "Here's my advice… When it becomes too hard to bear, you have a glass. Makes the world look less gloomy."

The whiskey burned on its way down his throat but he accepted another one and another one.

After a few, he was completely smashed and he was vaguely aware of Amelia ranting in the background. The next morning he only remembered Chaff helping him back to the train and having slept through the night for the first time in six months.

A week later, when he was so exhausted he couldn't see straight anymore and the nightmares were entirely too much, he didn't even hesitate before snatching a bottle from the bar car.

* * *

 **3 – Fifty-three Hunger Games**

* * *

The mentors' lounge was crowded but Haymitch found his way to the bar where Chaff was sitting, flipping through some file or other – hunting for sponsors, no doubt, Haymitch didn't have this problem, Twelve had been out of the Games ten minutes after the launch. It was sickening how quickly he had gotten used to losing tributes – maybe _getting used to it_ wasn't the right phrasing, maybe it was even worse: he didn't _expect_ anything else.

He sat on the stool next to his friend. Chaff glanced up from his papers and lifted an eyebrow, immediately barking with laughter. "Well… Someone's got laid. Good for you. It was getting sad, man. Nineteen and still a virgin."

Haymitch scowled, the tip of his ears was burning red.

"Don't know what you're on about." he mumbled. It was an atrocious lie. And there was a vicious hickey on his neck. He had tried to hide it but short of stealing some of his escort's awful make-up, there wasn't much to do.

Chaff had been on his case _for years_ now, always trying to hook him up with silly Capitols who would have liked nothing more than taking the Quell's victor for a spin… At first he had been reluctant because of Mabel. He was still grieving for her, still grieving for the life they should have had, still regretting they hadn't done it before the Reaping because… The truth was, he couldn't afford to get close to anyone in Twelve and he didn't want his first time to be with a Capitol. He had kissed a few of the girls Chaff had thrown his way in bars and clubs, he had kissed them and fumbled under their dresses and had let them touch him and he had _pretended_ it was all fine but… It had _never_ felt _right_ and he had never gone through with it.

"It was Grave, wasn't it?" Chaff insisted. "That girl's been drooling after you since last year."

"She's not." he grumbled. "We're _friends_."

Alina had won the previous year. It was Eight's first victory in a while and the pressure on her shoulders was huge. She was pretty which didn't help and she was popular. _Eighteen and I feel like I'm fifty_ , she had confessed one night over a drink. He could relate.

"Friends, right." Chaff snorted. "You could do worse for a girlfriend…"

"She's _not_ my girlfriend. I don't do _girlfriends_." he snapped. "It was a one-time thing between friends. That's it. Now _shut up_." He signaled the Avox bartender he wanted something to drink, too aware Chaff was staring at him. "Drop it. I mean it. It's none of your business and I'm not going to share the details with you." She deserved better than him telling his best friend all about it behind her back. He could be a gentleman like her mother had raised him to be.

Alina was sassy and kind. He liked her. Maybe given time and in other circumstances, he could even have grown to _love_ her but love wasn't something he was willing to contemplate anymore. Love made you weak. Love made you _hurt_.

"It's a bit early for a drink, no?" Chaff said, taking him aback. He had been expecting more lecturing about Alina, love, and why it wasn't a good idea to stop living completely. Although maybe Chaff wouldn't have. That was usually Mags' line. Chaff understood. If you had no one, you had no one to lose. It was safer this way. Lonely, maybe, but safer.

Haymitch shrugged, not bothering to check his watch. "It's party time somewhere."

"You're drinking a lot, Haymitch." Eleven's victor commented, pushing his papers aside.

Haymitch told the Avox to leave the bottle and took great pleasure in downing the first glass only to provoke his friend. Did they think he didn't hear them when they talked behind his back? Mags and Seeder? Beetee sometimes… _He's drinking too much. He's losing grip._ "Not sure you're the right person to lecture me on booze, Chaff."

"I drink too much, true." his friend argued. "But I can go without."

"Sad life you have." he snorted.

"Haymitch." Chaff insisted, his frown deepening. "When I said: get a drink when you feel you need it, I didn't mean get wasted every day."

"Should have been clearer then." he mocked. "Runs in the family, see? My dad was a drunkard. Worst piece of _shit_ ever. Took off when I was a kid. Never went looking. He might still be kicking. How ironical is that? My dad could be alive and my mother's dead." He toasted the security camera in the far end corner of the room. "Maybe they'll find him and kill him. Wouldn't shed a tear."

He was in a good mood.

Getting laid would do that to a man, he figured. Maybe he wouldn't be so squeamish about going with clueless Capitols anymore. Sex was just sex after all.

"Look…" Chaff pressed "Trust me, I get the need to numb things and…"

"No, you don't." he interrupted. "'Cause your family's not dead 'cause of you. So, here's how it's gonna play out. You're gonna be my friend and shut up about the booze 'cause friends don't make each other feel like _shit_ and victors don't comment on each other's way of coping. We've got a deal?"

Eleven's victor clearly didn't like it but in the end, Chaff forced a smile. "You're right. Whatever helps you cope. Just be careful."

"That's my middle name." he snorted.

* * *

 **4 – Seventy-fourth Hunger Games**

* * *

"So, you won." Chaff said, clasping his shoulder with his good hand.

The party was outrageous and too loud. Haymitch hadn't slept, eaten or even drunk properly in days, he was worried about Katniss and Peeta who were still unconscious in the Games Clinic, and he was sporting a headache. He was desperate for some fresh air and quiet but he knew that it was important to play the game the right way now more than ever. On the dance floor, Trinket was making a good show of pretending she wasn't dead on her feet. Sometimes they exchanged a glance and he could see the same wariness in her eyes he felt deep inside.

The euphoria of the victory had quickly died down. The implications of Katniss holding out the berries, Peeta's leg, the Gamemakers' quiet but persistent displeasure, Crane sending Trinket a note stating Twelve's team should stay as far away from him as possible…

"Yeah." he said, not bothering to fake enthusiasm.

He had been faking all night. For the cameras, for the sponsors, for the other victors who had congratulated him… He wouldn't fake for his best friend. Instead, he shoveled another handful of appetizers in his mouth – he had stolen a tray from a passing Avox despite his escort glaring daggers from the other side of the room – they weren't his favorite but he was _starving_ , he thought his last sandwich dated back from two days earlier _at least_. He and Trinket had been living on coffee and the occasional muffin alone.

"Two victors." Chaff insisted. "You know…"

" _Yeah_." he cut his friend off. "Trust me, I know all about it. Cinna's brought me to speed." He had too much on his mind. Katniss, Peeta, Thirteen, a possible rebellion… "Can't focus on any of that right now."

His friend nodded, clearly understanding the predicament. Chaff had had one or two victors in his time.

"I'm glad your girl made it." Eleven's mentor offered. "Rue…" Chaff shook his head, his face hardening. "I knew she had no real chances but I liked the kid. What your girl did for her… It was brave. And _decent_."

"And stupid." Haymitch added with a sigh. "But that's Katniss for you. Brave, decent and stupid."

"Says the boy who hold his ally's hand until she died." Chaff snorted.

The mention of Maysilee made him clench his jaw. Maysilee had been on his mind too much as it was. He had done a double take when he had glimpsed the pin on Katniss' shoulder. He had taken that pin off his friend's dead body and there it was again, twenty-five years later, as if to better assert that Maysilee would never stop haunting him. The pin had felt like a sign. The scene with Rue had only strengthened that feeling.

"Didn't cover her with flowers." he pointed out, aiming for detached and only managing to sound pained.

"No. Don't think anyone ever did that before." Chaff answered. "Nobody ever sang someone to death either. Good girl, you have."

"Did I thank you for the bread?" he asked, rubbing his face.

"Trinket sent a thank you card to our floor." Chaff replied with obvious amusement. "Flourished style, she's got."

"Yeah, well… That's Trinket for you." he commented. " _Flourished_." His head was pounding now. He wondered how long they would have to _stay_ there. He wanted to go back to the clinic, check on the kids… The doctors had said it would be some time yet but he didn't want them to wake up alone. – Peeta particularly, he wanted to tell the boy about his leg himself… He wanted to soften the news as much as he could… He studied his friend's closed face. "You're okay? The kid… You got attached."

"How not?" Chaff scoffed. "She was twelve, smart and _fucking_ cute as _shit_. It's unfair every year, but there are _years_ , you know?"

He nodded his understanding, snatching flutes of champagne from a passing Avox. It wasn't their favorite poison but it would have to do. They downed it at the same time and with the same tiredness.

"Champagne is meant to be _savored_ , you know." Trinket sighed with open disapprobation, joining them.

"What do you want and when can we leave?" he grumbled.

"I want you to dance with me and right after." she retorted without a blink, not even calling him out on his rudeness.

"Don't want to dance." he mumbled.

"I am not particularly in the mood either but it is expected." she hissed. "Stop being difficult."

He rolled his eyes but gestured at her to go first. He discarded his empty glass on a nearby table, trying not to mind Chaff's disapproving stare.

"What?" he snarled after a few seconds, almost expecting a comment about whistling and puppies that came running.

"Nothing." Chaff answered. "Be careful with that, that's all."

It wasn't the first warning of that kind his friend imparted on him and, just like every other time, Haymitch ignored him. He was _in_ _control_. So what if he danced a little too close to Trinket? What if he enjoyed holding her tight?

It was his business.

Not Chaff's.

* * *

 **5 – Third Quarter Quell**

* * *

When the elevator chimed in the silent penthouse, Haymitch thought it was Trinket. She was stupid enough to brave the interdiction for escorts to come back to their respective floors.

He _was_ surprised when Chaff appeared on the living room's threshold. He hadn't bothered switching on the lamps, the bay windows provided enough light and casted the room in a soft glow. It suited his gloomy mood.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Haymitch snorted. "Got an important appointment in the morning or something, no?"

"You suck at mentoring." Chaff chuckled, making a beeline for the liquor cart. He poured himself a whiskey and joined Haymitch by the bay window. They watched the city for a while. The glass was soundproof but the people rioting in the streets were impossible to ignore. They looked like tiny ants from there. Tiny ants calling for a stop to the Quell, something that would never happen in a million year. They would have forgotten their outrage the next morning probably. "I need something."

Haymitch took a sip of his own glass, trying not to make a face at the watered down liquor. He had been cutting out as much as he could, he had been _fighting_ the impulses to drink. There would be no booze in Thirteen and he needed to be ready for it. It didn't make the prospect any less daunting.

"Anything." he offered quietly.

 _Anything that wouldn't hurt his kids,_ he amended in his head. The plan was in motion but there were no guarantees everyone would survive. All the victors involved knew that.

"If I don't make it…" Chaff said. "My sister and the kids…"

"Yes." he cut him off. "You don't need to ask."

His friend studied him for a moment and then gave him a brief nod. "We don't need to do the thing when I say mushy stuff and you answer soppy things, right?"

Haymitch cringed. "Hell, no."

"Good." Eleven's victor chuckled.

"Good." Haymitch echoed, the tinge of worry and pain in his chest worsening at the idea that almost all his friends would be sent to the arena in the morning. They drank in silence for a moment and then he _couldn't_ keep it inside anymore. "Don't get your sorry ass killed."

"I'll do my best, buddy." Chaff promised.

* * *

 **6 – Rebellion**

* * *

It wasn't until a doctor led him into the hospital room that would be his for the duration of his withdrawal that everything sank in.

Haymitch lied down on the bed because there was nothing else to do and he stared at the walls. Everything was turning and swirling in his head: the kids, Twelve, Thirteen, Coin, Katniss, Finnick… The room looked strangely like the one he had woken up in after his Games except this one was grey instead of white. There was a chair next to his bed, probably meant for visitors…

And that was when he finally _realized_.

Chaff was dead.

He had known for a while, he had _seen_ it happen on screen but it hadn't felt real until then, until his eyes fell on a chair that would have been stubbornly occupied by his best friend if he had still been alive.

Chaff was dead.

Haymitch hadn't known he could feel emptier than he had all those years.

 _And yet_.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Day 4: AU/Crossover_**

* * *

 _I went for a canon AU: what if Haymitch had never been reaped? I'm not as happy with it as I'd wish but… Well. I'll also marked this collection as complete because I have nothing more prepared for the week. If inspiration strikes I will do something else but for now... I have nothing else =)_

* * *

 ** _Be Careful What You Wish For_**

"It's a shame." Haymitch sighed. "But that's how it is."

"You're being harsh." Mabel rebuked him coldly.

Their boy lifted his head and watched them warily from under his messy heap of black hair. Haymitch forced himself to swallow back the retort that was burning his lips and winked at Dennis instead. He knew their recurrent fighting was unsettling the kids. Dennis always flinched and looked uneasy. His older sister, Fiona, was simply too used to it by now.

Haymitch couldn't really say how they had gotten to that point. He had married Mabel once they were both free of the Hunger Games' threat. The Quell had come and gone without either of them being reaped – a miracle since it had taken out four of their classmates – and they had also survived the two following years. As soon as he had been eighteen, he had enrolled in the mine and they had settled down in the Seam, not too far from their families.

Despite the difficult conditions, life had been good for a few years. Mabel still went poaching when he was at the mine, sometimes taking Hayden out with her. His brother wasn't good at hunting but he was good at placing snares. Mercifully, he had never been reaped either.

He and Mabel had never actively _planned_ on having kids but it had happened anyway. They had tried to be careful – who _didn't_ in the Seam where children often died starving or reaped in the Games? – but without access to contraception, it hadn't exactly been a huge surprise when Mabel had told him she was with child.

Still, it _had been_ great for a while. Once Fiona was there… He had fallen in love with his daughter at first sight. He hated the mine. He hated the fact his brother had to go work there too even though he was anxious of closed spaces. He hated the mine but he would always do what he ought to do to feed his family and he would do it gladly.

His mother had died when Fiona was three, too tired by a life of slaving. He thought sometimes that it was around that time that everything had started to change even though it hadn't felt like it at the time. His relationship with Mabel had become a bit rocky somewhere down the line. He had forbidden her to go back to the woods – and, _yeah_ , maybe it made him sound like an _asshole_ , like she always said it did _but_ he was her husband, they had kids and risking being whipped or executed _wasn't_ worth it. She felt constricted in a small life, he knew. She loved the children, _of course_ she did, but she was trapped in the house washing laundry for people from town every day and it wasn't much of a life at all.

When they had found out she was pregnant with Dennis, they hadn't celebrated. They had sat at the kitchen table the whole night and they had stared at each other, unwilling to be the first to say what they had both known: they couldn't afford another kid.

They had pulled through anyway.

He had found small jobs on the side, Hayden had pitched in at least until he had settled down with a girl of his own and had his own baby… It was tight but he would keel over before he let Fiona take tesseraes.

He couldn't pinpoint the moment when his and Mabel's relationship had soured so much. They used to bicker a lot when they were young but that was always fond and they always made up with kisses and, later on, by collapsing on the old lumpy mattress her parents had gifted them with on their toasting day. Now… Now he couldn't quite remember the last time they had kissed, never mind the last time they hadn't fallen asleep with their backs turned to each other.

"Katniss is in my class." Fiona hummed suddenly, around a mouthful of Mabel's three days diluted stew. "She's weird. She never talks to anyone."

"She lost her father." Mabel reminded her sternly. "Poor kid. And poor Aster… I'm going to see if she needs anything tomorrow. Her or the kid. I'm not sure Prim's holding on so well."

Haymitch nodded his assent. They didn't have much and, as cold as it sounded, he wasn't exactly the _sharing with neighbors_ kind. His family _always_ came first, but there were circumstances, he figured. He felt sorry for the Everdeens. He had almost died in the cave-in that had killed the father. The family had been through a lot and now…

The Mellark boy was already dead. It would only be a matter of days before Katniss followed. She had held out longer than most but she came across as hard and arrogant and no one in the Capitol would sponsor her. With no mentor, winning the Games was an almost impossible task.

He saw the way Dennis was eyeing his sister's plate and he wordlessly pushed his own toward the boy.

"Haymitch." Mabel chided him. "He ate his share."

"And he's still hungry. So he's getting mine." he snapped.

"I'm okay, Daddy." Dennis tried to refuse but Haymitch wouldn't hear it.

"And what happens when you faint tomorrow 'cause you didn't have enough to eat tonight?" Mabel ranted. "What happens when you get fired _or_ _worse_ 'cause you're not fit?"

" _Shut it_ , Mabel." he grumbled. "If my kid's hungry, he's getting food."

She pursed her lips, took one look at the way Dennis was watching them and softened.

"Eat, love." she told their son.

She didn't have to tell him twice, the boy tucked in. Fiona looked at his plate with envy but held her tongue. She was the eldest and she knew to protect her brother. It _hurt_ sometimes how much she wanted to protect her brother. It reminded him of his own relationship with Hayden when they had been kids.

And it made him angry, _oh so angry_ , to think his children had to grow up like this, to think there would be no end in sight and that they would one day be where _they_ were, watching their own children starve or waiting in fear for their names to be called by whatever parrot bitch the Capitol would send.

"Here." Mabel said, handing him her own plate.

He shook his head. "Give it to Fiona."

"I'm not hungry anymore, Dad." their daughter refused.

It was a lie and an obvious one.

"You need to eat, Haymitch." Mabel said. "Stop playing martyr."

She needed to eat too but it would be no use pointing that out. It would only lead to an argument where she would rant for hours about him preventing her from doing helpful things for her family – like going to the woods. She kept their family together as far as he was concerned but she couldn't _see_ that. She resented him too much for that. He didn't understand how she couldn't realize there were too many risks in her being caught out there… The mine wasn't safe, miners never lived old – there were the dangers of cave-ins, the old equipment and the coal dust they breathed in everyday and that settled in their lungs… He already had the cough. How long before they kicked him out and he couldn't work anymore? How long before he died? The kids would need her then. They couldn't afford to lose Mabel because, eventually, she would be the only one they would have left. But she refused to accept that and she resented him for trapping her in this unbearable routine of misery.

It poisoned everything.

Sometimes he wasn't sure he loved her anymore – often, he was very sure _she_ didn't. He would never leave, of course. He loved the kids and he had a duty to her. But… It was hard.

"Split it in half." he compromised.

They finished their dinner in silence. Afterwards, he talked with the kids as he was used to do every night. He soaked their presence in because they were the only light in his sad little life. He tucked Dennis in and received Fiona's kiss with a smile when she went to bed and for a brief moment he was _happy_. As far as he was concerned, the time he spent with his kids was the best moment of the day.

And then he was left in the cold kitchen with Mabel who washed the dishes and ignored him and the silence was too much to bear.

"I'm going to Hayden's." he said.

"Why?" she frowned.

"Just to check everything's okay." he shrugged. "Why? I need a reason to go see my baby brother now?"

She was suspicious he had found another girl, he thought. And that was _stupid_. He wasn't a cheater. Never had been and never would be. When he said he went to his brother's, he _went_ to his brother's.

"Fine." she spat.

He didn't bother saying goodnight before heading out. He knew she would be in bed by the time he would be back and he also knew she wouldn't leave the candle on for him. It was punishment.

Truth was… He loved going to Hayden's because his brother's house was a happy place. They were struggling just as much as them but he and Kitty were _happy_ , their daughter was a healthy bright little girl who always jumped in Haymitch's arms and planted a kiss on his cheek when she saw him. It was one of the few things he was grateful for: Hayden being happy.

His brother was outside his house, sitting on the small wooden step that led to the door. He had a glass in hand and a bottle of Ripper's moonshine next to him.

"Trouble in paradise?" Haymitch greeted him, dropping on the step next to him and grabbing the bottle without waiting for an invitation. He took a long mouthful, letting the liquor burn his throat on the way down. Sometimes, he thought it was lucky money was so tight because if it hadn't been for the kids, losing himself in moonshine would have been tempting.

"Why do you always think about trouble first?" Hayden snorted. "Maybe I'm celebrating."

"Celebrating what?" he asked.

"Kitty's pregnant." his brother beamed, all happiness and Haymitch found himself smiling even though a second child was madness – not like they had a choice now though so they might as well all be happy about it.

"Congratulations, baby brother." Haymitch offered, clapping him on the back and taking another swallow of liquor.

They remained on the step in silence for a while, watching the night sky like they used to do when they were kids.

A shooting star briefly flared overhead and Hayden nudged him. "Make a wish." His brother didn't even wait for a whole second before elbowing him again. It made Haymitch smile at how childish Hayden still was sometimes. "What did you wish for?"

"I wished…" His sentence trailed off. He debated between lying and telling the trust for a while.

 _He wished his life had gone another way._


End file.
